


In Plain Sight

by dearmrsawyer



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Being Human (UK) Fusion, Found Families, Friends to Lovers, Ghosts, M/M, Roommates, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves, and Humans lol, being human AU, side lirry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 19:59:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15979421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearmrsawyer/pseuds/dearmrsawyer
Summary: “I know you’re not a big fan of change,” he began, just like he had this morning. And just like this morning, Louis scoffed. Niall’s voice took on an edge, then. “Look—it’s not like I want things to change either. You’re acting like I’m—conspiring, or something. Just, give me a break, yeah?”“A break?” Louis sprang to his feet, suddenly ballooned with all the rage he’d felt that morning. “You’re the reason everything’s changing.”Niall is human. His best friend is a ghost. Things only get less normal from there. A Being Human AU.





	In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Carlie and Bel for the spectacular beta jobs, and to Steph and Justine for encouraging my progress on this throughout the year! I've wanted to write this fic for a long time and finally found both the inspiration and motivation to do it for Nouisfest.

The front door opened with a pronounced creak. Footsteps clacked across the checkered linoleum floor of the entry hall, followed by a sigh—presumably at the bookshelf that had been roughly slotted back into place since that morning. One end sat an inch or so apart from the wall, pointing hazardously forward, and the books were piled atop one another rather than lined up with their spines cleanly displayed.

“Real mature.” Niall’s disembodied voice echoed through the entry, into the living room on the left, up the narrow staircase straight ahead, and into the kitchen on the right, where Louis sat at their little laminate table.

Louis, stirring one of four mugs of tea lined up in front of him, thought Niall ought to be grateful they weren’t still a pile on the floor.

Niall appeared in the doorway, messenger bag already offloaded onto the coatrack by the door. He remained resolutely ignored as Louis tapped a spoon lightly against his mug; spots of tea sat suspended atop the table’s glossy surface.

“Ready to have a conversation like a proper adult?”

Louis clenched his teeth and the garbage disposal began to rattle aggressively behind him. Niall sat himself down and wrapped his hands around one of the three spare mugs. “Inviting a noise complaint against us?”

The garbage disposal made a few more clunky turns before switching off.

One side of Louis’ denim collar popped against the underside of his soft, obstinately-raised chin, but Niall’s eyes were steady, cataloguing the petulant tilt to his mouth—one of the things he claimed marked Louis’ eternal youth. Unchanged in the last seven years, he’d always say.

“I know you’re not a big fan of change,” he began, just as he had this morning. And just like this morning, Louis scoffed. Niall’s voice took on an edge, then. “Look—it’s not like I want things to change either. You’re acting like I’m—conspiring, or something. Just, give me a break, yeah?”

“A break?” Louis sprang to his feet, suddenly ballooned with all the rage he’d felt that morning.  “You’re the _reason_ everything’s changing.”

“I know that, but I have no choice.”

“Of course you have a bloody choice—”

“I get why you’re mad, okay.” Niall raked a hand through his hair. “But it’s not like you’ll have to be around them if you don’t want to. I mean, they’ll have jobs, like me. They’ll be gone sometimes. And even when they’re around, you can just hang in my room.”

“So I’ll just be shafted to your room, will I? Lock me away in a tower so I don’t give anyone a fright.” The contents of the kitchen cupboards began to rattle.

“Just make yourself invisible then! You’re a ghost, for God’s sake, don’t have to go locking yourself away. They won’t even see you if you don’t want them to.”

The oven door whipped open and slammed shut, making Niall jump.

“Sure! Sat in the corner while you lot all become gang busters,” Louis raved as the kitchen drawers began to shake on their rails. “Just ignored for the rest of me life, cheers.”

Niall stood, shoulders tense. “Why are you being so dramatic about this? I’m not gonna forget about you! So there’ll be a couple of other people in the flat, it’s not like I’m trading you in. We can still hang.”

“But it won’t be our place anymore! It won’t be _hers_!”

Niall stalled.  “Hasn’t been hers for six months.”

Louis glanced at him, hunched over one of the kitchen chairs. They were evenly matched in height, but Niall had this way of making himself insular, of taking up less space through sheer will. His shoulders, broad with maturity, suddenly seemed narrow like they’d been in adolescence. His frame, filled out from the years Louis had been stripped of, shrank to reflect a self Niall had left behind long ago, back when Louis was still racing him to adulthood.

Louis swallowed, guilt thick in his throat. He missed Margie almost as much as he missed his own family. She’d become as much, in the last seven years. She hadn’t been _his_ nan, though.

“I—” Louis swallowed. He couldn’t feel it, but the reflex had never disappeared. “I can’t go back to being ignored like that, Niall. I can’t.”

Niall looked up then, and Louis could see the same memory behind his eyes that still sat heavy in his own mind.

It had taken months after the accident for anyone to see him at all. Months of following Margie around the flat, begging for her to see him, hear him. Screaming at Niall every time he would visit his widowed grandmother, every time he looked sadly at the bottom of the stairs where Louis’ body had crumpled the last time he’d joined him for one such visit. It took so long that he’d eventually given up, relegating himself to corners where he’d watch their lives carry on without him.

He still wasn’t sure what had changed that night. Niall, over for their weekly viewing of Strictly, had settled beside Margie on the couch as bedazzled celebrity couples twirled their way around a dancefloor. Even without an audience, Louis couldn’t help himself when the judges gushed over Holly’s most boring performance yet, declaring, “Oh come on, barely more than a stroll, that was!”

Niall and Margie had practically jumped out of their skin, whipping around to look Louis in the eye for the first time in five months.

There had been times, in that first year, when Louis faded yet again, whenever he got particularly upset, or scared. Sometimes for days at a time—once, for an entire two weeks. Niall and Margie would search the house, calling for him, all while he was trying so hard to be heard. His control had come slowly, but it had come. Eventually he’d mastered the ability to be seen or not.

When Margie had her friends over for cards, he’d stand by the sink, one ankle crossed over the other, slipping Margie her friends’ hands to help her win. Once or twice she’d been seen winking at him, but she’d just claimed a twitchy eye.

When it had been just the two of them, or three with Niall, he’d never had to hide. Being visible became effortless, like holding up your own head.

Niall grew more and more still as the kitchen shook around them. Louis clenched his fists, trying to settle the energy in his body. The mugs on the sink began to rattle instead.

“Louis…”

One of the mugs vibrated right off the edge, shattering all over the floor.

“Louis, please, calm down.” Niall stretched his hands forward, placating.

“I—can’t—” he gritted, the quiver in his fingers stretching right through his limbs.

“It’s going to be okay,” Niall said, voice thick. The distance between them shrank as Niall filled his vision. Even with everything that had changed about him, his eyes were still the same. They were the same ones he’d looked into as a kid, the same ones he’d begged to look back at him after he died.

He focused on the fact that they could see him now, that Louis could make Niall see him whenever he wanted.

“I don’t—wanna hide—every day.” His words were punctuated by his efforts to control the energy flooding out of him. “I don’t wanna—barely exist here. I barely exist as it is. It’s not—fair.”

“I know,” Niall said. Louis felt a gentle touch against his arm.

The tension in his body eased ever so slightly, deflating under Niall’s hand. The kitchen began to settle, drawers creaking as they relaxed back into place. The kettle, which had begun to boil, stopped whistling. Niall’s shoulders sagged.

Louis suddenly felt very small, out of control and juvenile.

“It’s been six months, Lou.” Niall’s voice was now subdued with them only inches apart. “Everything she left me, it’s almost gone. I don’t—do you think I relish the idea of letting this place change? Of letting go of her? I haven’t—” He dug his thumb into his forehead. “I can’t put this off anymore. I just can’t afford it.”

Louis took Niall in—the slump of his posture, the relic of grief that still lingered around the eyes—and felt a yawning sorrow swallow up the last of his rage. Finally, the kitchen went still. There was a hum in the air as the energy in Louis dropped away.

“You and Margie,” he began, picking at his nails. They were eternally bitten to the quick. “You’ve always known about me. I’ve never had to hide, not like this.” Thinking about Margie hurt him too. Sometimes it was still hard to believe she was gone. “If someone else moves in, I’ll have to. I won’t be able to exist like I do now.”

“When it’s just me, or when you’re home alone, you can act totally normal. You’ll just have to be more careful around the new tenants.” Niall tipped his head and drew his brows together, just the hint of a wrinkle that Louis would never achieve.

Louis leant his heel against one of the cupboards and scrubbed at his nose. “Do you really have to do it?”

“If I don’t, I’ll have to leave.” Louis looked up sharply. “Someone else’ll move in anyway, and then you won’t have me here either.”

Niall’s shoulders slumped; he too seemed powerfully sad at the idea.

Louis couldn’t leave the flat. He’d tried so many times when he was newly ghosted and alone, but could never get further than the front stoop. He was stuck here, in the place of his death, and if Niall left Louis wouldn’t be able to go with him.

“At least this way there’s still one person you don’t have to hide from, yeah?” Then, softer, “I can’t afford this place on my own.”

Louis felt an aching sadness at the idea that he could lose Niall at all. He needed him here, no matter who else he had to suffer.

He nodded, and Niall released a great breath.

***

They spent the next two weeks scouting for new tenants.

Louis stood over Niall’s shoulder as he posted an ad online, and dutifully veiled himself each time they scheduled a few prospective house mates to come see the place.

The first few times, he followed them around, eager to get a look at some of the sorry excuses for stragglers that had responded. Niall was always quick to shut down his commentary with a glare, even if he was the only one able to hear him. Eventually he left to stew alone in Niall’s room as the revolving door of potentials continued to traipse through their sacred space.

Couples, divorcees, twenty-something BFFs—the combinations were endless. Louis was personally offended that Niall had advertised for not one but _two_ new tenants. One, they would at least outnumber. This way, _he_ was the one who would be outnumbered.

On one particular Saturday afternoon Niall hurried him up the stairs after a chipper knock on the front door.

“I’m going, I’m _going_ —”

“Shh!”

“ _Okay_ , God.”

Louis rose to the upper landing as Niall smoothed his hands over his shirt. Before reaching for the door, he ducked down to give Louis an absolutely furious warning look, and then whipped the door open.

“Hi!”

Louis could see two pairs of long legs—one in a light blue denim with rips, the other wore black jeans painted to the skin. They answered in a unanimous greeting before Niall stepped aside to let them in.

“Niall, right?” a new voice said.

“That’d be me,” Niall beamed, extending his hand. “You’re…?”

“Liam.” The blue jeans stepped forward and a hand took Niall’s. “This is Harry.”

Louis crouched down; he usually liked to get a good look before tucking himself away. His eyes climbed blue jeans and an obnoxiously long white tee until they found an equally long face with a dusting of stubble and brown hair combed back overhead. His eyes crinkled above a wide grin. The other one, Harry, was wearing a black tee to match his jeans and a cream bomber that caught at his hips. His eyes were comparably wide, framed by loose curls that tucked into the collar of his jacket.

“Look at this pair,” Louis muttered to himself.

“So, feel free to take a look around,” Niall offered, leading them into the living room.

“Thanks, mate.” Liam sprang forward while Harry eyed the place with a slower curiosity.

“It’s, uh, I mean it’s furnished obviously. But if you have your own things—we can always figure something out. I…”

Niall glanced up the stairs once Liam and Harry had disappeared around the corner. His eyes nervously met Louis’, like he was worried about letting him out of his sight, and equally worried that he would remain there.

Muffled voices answered Niall. Louis could hear the circling of feet around the room, sharp on the floorboards, then briefly dulled against the rug.

“Nah, would love one though,” Niall said in answer to a question Louis couldn’t make out.

More indistinguishable words, back and forth and rather amused. Louis felt a sour stir in his chest at the thought that this was how it would be from now on. Just him, up here, huddled on the outside and shunned from participating in anything within his own home. The photo frames hanging along the stairs began to rattle lightly.

Niall’s head darted back, eyes panicked. Louis clenched his fist and forced a few slow breaths. The frames went still, and Niall anxiously grinned back at the two men in the living room.

Louis leaned forward, trying to grasp what they were saying, but quickly scrambled back as they stepped back out and walked to the kitchen. He felt foolish, frantically shifting out of view when he was a ghost. He silently reminded himself to flicker the lamp above Niall’s bed while he slept as revenge for putting Louis so on edge with his own nerves.

“Might, uh, need a couple more chairs for the table,” Niall laughed, eyes darting between Harry, Liam, and Louis, huddled upstairs. His hands were wringing together in that way they did when he was spectacularly on edge.

Louis shuffled forward as they disappeared to the other end of the ground floor. Just as he was tempted to creep down a stair or two, absolutely fed up with being so excluded before anyone had even moved in, he heard Niall say in a very strained, enunciated voice: “Yes, let’s go upstairs and look at the bedroom!”

Niall rushed to the foot of the stairs to lead their guests up, eyes wide as Louis backed down the hall. Niall’s eyes scanned the landing when he reached the top, wide with fear, as if Louis could’ve forgotten to veil himself veil from the guests. Louis rolled his eyes, palms out and placating.

“My room’s down there, bathroom here.” Niall vaguely waved towards Louis, then very grandly gestured towards the remaining door at the other end. “And this is the spare room!”

The two bedrooms bookended the hall. Harry threw a cursory glance over Niall’s shoulder, eyes sliding across Louis, before he followed Liam into the spare.

“Oh, it’s big,” Harry mused, head tipping up towards what Louis knew to be a remarkably high ceiling.

“It’s the master. Never felt I needed it, myself,” Niall said.

Louis remembered the day Niall had moved in, directing his mates to move his things into the guest room. Louis had asked why later that night.

“Don’t think I can sleep where she slept,” he’d said, throat thick. Louis understood; it still felt like Margie’s room even now.

Both Harry and Liam seemed quite in awe of it. Louis approached Niall’s side, who noticeably jumped when he spotted Louis there.

“Relax, they’re gonna notice how weird you’re being long before they see me,” Louis whispered.

Neither Liam nor Harry noticed anything at all, circling the room while making a great deal of affirmative noises. Harry admired the large, street-facing window while Liam inspected the antiquated dressing table Margie had left behind. Her double bed, lace curtains, and wardrobe with gold-plated handles were the only other things in there. They seemed to take in every available inch.

“Not that much to see,” Louis groused, tossing a thumb in their direction.

“And you’re okay with it just being the one room, yeah?” Niall said, loud enough to drown Louis out, but certainly too loud for the two individuals who couldn’t hear Louis at all.

Liam startled. “Yeah, that suits us.”

He reached out to rest a hand against Harry’s hip. They both smiled at Niall, who stared resolutely forward as if looking away would allow their gaze to drift to Louis.

“Cool,” he said stiffly.

Louis clapped him on the back, amused. “At this rate they’re gonna take off running before they even know this place is haunted.”

“Have you had many other people come look at the room?” Harry asked.

“Uh, a few.” Niall stepped away from Louis’ hand. “None I’ve really taken a shine to, in all honesty.”

“We’d be very respectful,” Harry said, stepping forward. His eyes were still so wide, almost beseeching. “Promise we don’t make a lot of noise, wouldn’t give you any trouble. We’re clean too. Tidy up after ourselves, won’t leave the dishes overnight, or dirty laundry in the bathroom. And I cook! I can cook for us. I cook for me and Liam all the time.”

“Sounds great,” Niall chucked, tipped subtly backwards at Harry’s proximity. “You, uh, you been shopping ‘round much yourselves?”

“Kinda, we’re new to the area so looking at anything that’s available. Not much around, though,” Harry frowned.

“Your ad was definitely the most reasonable,” Liam chimed in.

“And the place is actually nice. One guy was renting out his garage. His ad made it look like the flat had an industrial design.”

“But no unfortunate surprises here so far.”

Louis grinned at the tense line of Niall’s shoulders.

“Um, no—no surprises here,” Niall stuttered. “Just this room. And the other rooms. Just… all these rooms.”

“Would we split the rent three ways?” Harry asked.

Niall nodded. “Yeah, hoped to get two people in so we could all pay less.”

Since they’d begun the search for housemates, there had been a knot in the approximate spot Louis’ heart used to be. It was a tangled mix of guilt and powerlessness, a twisted up awareness that his very existence as a ghost was both the reason Niall couldn’t leave, and the reason he couldn’t afford to stay. If Louis were a living, breathing, functioning member of society, Niall wouldn’t have to find some other housemates to afford the flat. Louis was a hostage to his own dependence.

“Seems a decent area,” Liam said. “Perfect location, too. Close to the hospital.”

“And the woods,” Harry agreed, which was about as odd as the look Liam shot him.

Louis knit his brow. “What.”

Harry’s perfectly pale cheeks seemed to grow even more opaque for a second. “I mean. Like. Trees—they’re nice. Good to have trees around.”

Niall gave a stilted nod. “Uh, yeah. Gotta love trees,” he said, and ignored Louis tugging at the back of his shirt. “You guys doctors, then? ‘Cause of the hospital?”

“Orderlies,” Harry said, sheepish.

Niall nodded. “Still, important work.”

“That’s overselling it, I think,” Liam grinned. “But it’s good enough.”

“Well, in the business of helping folks at any rate.”

Harry seemed particularly pleased with this. “It can mean shifts at odd hours, not always nine to five. But we wouldn’t keep you up,” he quickly clarified.

Niall flapped his hand. “A job’s a job.”

Louis stood at the bottom of the stairs as Niall saw them out, assuring them he’d be in touch by the weekend. All smiles, Harry followed Liam outside, taking his hand just as Niall closed the door after them.

“They weren’t so bad, right?”

Arms folded, Louis slung one ankle over the other. “Pair of oddballs, if you ask me.”

“Friendly, though,” Niall said, halfway timid, which tugged at the knot in Louis’ chest.

“Well, much better than that couple on Monday,” he relented.

Niall’s mouth opened into an even smile. “Didn’t seem thrilled with the place even though they were practically ready to move in.”

“I imagine you’d come home to them ripping out the kitchen wall within a week.”

Niall pitched his voice high, one hand to his chest in imitation of Sandra, one half of Monday’s couple. “I’m all about open plan living. We need some more light!”

“Is this load-bearing?” Louis emulated Sandra’s husband, Raf, leaning in close to the wall.

Niall pressed his ear to the wall, closed his eyes and tapped it with his knuckle.

“Either way, I think it’s gotta go, babe,” Louis boomed. Niall’s face scrunched tight with laughter.

Niall twisted around, leaning his head back against the wall. “Really, though, they were alright, yeah?”

And although every instinct in Louis told him to fight it, to gripe about their PDA, or mock Harry’s clearly overbearing nature, he knew he owed Niall this. Knew the alternative was losing Niall altogether. Louis took him in, with his hair all askew (self-inflicted) and shadowed eyes (not so self-inflicted).

And this wasn’t just for Niall’s sake, but for his own, too.

“Not the worst couple of bozos out there,” he murmured.

Niall’s face flooded with relief, like he too had still been expecting a fight. He positively beamed back at Louis. “Got someone coming by tomorrow but unless he’s a pro golfer, I’ll call Liam on Saturday.”

Louis gasped and thrust a menacing finger against Niall’s chest. “There’s _no way_ you’re letting a pro golfer move in. Where’s Liam’s number, I’ll call him myself.”

***

As it turned out, Liam and Harry didn’t bring much with them when they moved in. It was mostly stuff—clothes, books, a crockery set Liam had been gifted from his mum the day he first moved out, a dusty vinyl collection Harry seemed particularly proud of. Niall offered up a couple of shelves in the bookcase beside the TV, and Louis could hear him oohing and ahhing as Harry pulled them out of the boxes. There wasn’t much substantial furniture though; seemed they didn’t have a lot to their names, overall.

Louis largely kept to Niall’s room, watching Youtube on Niall’s laptop to pass the time. He flopped back on Niall’s bed, as opposed to the worn, sizeable armchair that Niall had moved up here.

“So you’ve got somewhere too,” Niall had said, after Louis watched him come dangerously close to replicating Louis’ death in his attempt to get it up the stairs. “You know, in case you want to hang in here sometimes.”

“I can just use the bed,” Louis had answered, jumping back into the nest of blankets.

Niall frowned, an exact mirror to the expression he used to wear when Louis would jump into his bed without removing his shoes. He would need to sit Niall down and ensure he understood that Louis’ vans no longer posed a hygienic threat.

“But you don’t sleep.”

“Don’t have to sleep to enjoy a nice comfy bed.”

The three human residents seemed to get on swimmingly from the get go, at least from what Louis could hear. He was already learning to distinguish the tonal distinctions between them within a couple of hours. Harry was notably more baritone, slower and intermittent. Liam, on the other hand, had a frantic rhythm to everything he said, almost impossible to follow from another room. Niall he could recognise easily, having spent the last seven years hearing so few voices other than his. But all three of them sounded buoyed, bouncing off each other easily as Harry and Liam crowded the flat with evidence of their own existence.

Niall popped in to check on him every now and then. There was a guilty tilt to his smile every time he appeared, having excused himself yet again from the two new tenants.

“They’re gonna think you’re odd if you keep closing doors after yourself every time you enter a room,” Louis said as Niall pushed the bedroom door shut.

“They’ll think I’m private,” Niall said.

“They’ll think you’re hiding something.”

“I am, aren’t I?”

“S’pose,” Louis mumbled, adjusting the laptop over his knees. “They all settled in, then?”

Niall nodded. “Harry’s making dinner, like, as thanks.”

Louis didn’t answer, just slid his finger aimlessly across the mousepad.

“You’ll have free reign when they’ve gone to bed. Can do whatever you like, really.”

“Mhm.”

“And they work odd shifts, being orderlies. So they might not always be here of an evening. You and I can still… hang out, you know, like we have.”

“Great.”

“Might be home during the day sometimes, though, depending on their shifts. You’ll just have to keep an eye out, I guess.” Niall scrubbed at his nose. “Can you stop acting like you’ve just gotten a life sentence?”

“Don’t I?”

“No! You’ve still got me here, and complete freedom whenever Harry and Liam are either out or asleep. Things aren’t changing that much, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make me feel like I’ve ruined your afterlife, or whatever.”

Louis felt a dull throb of guilt. He knew Niall was only doing what he needed to, that he wasn’t made of money and couldn’t exactly rely on Louis to help him keep afloat. And he was right; Louis just needed to be more careful now.

But it didn’t change the fact that now Louis had to share Niall. It wasn’t just hiding himself from the two new tenants. It was that when Niall came home, it was no longer just to Louis. It was to Liam and Harry as well, to conversations he couldn’t participate in, and the relationship that would blossom between the three of them.

Louis sat halfway up the stairs while the others shared their first meal in the kitchen. By the sounds of the conversation going on without him, Louis could tell it had already begun.

***

The clock by Niall’s bed read 2:17am in a boxy, radioactive green. It was the only source of light in this windowless bedroom, casting a sickly glow across Niall’s scruffy cheek as he slept.

Louis was sat in his armchair, legs slung over one of the arms and head tilted to the point that, were he alive, his neck would certainly have begun to ache. The flat was silent with Harry and Liam also asleep down the hall. Louis had looked in on them earlier, stuck his head right through the door they had pulled closed after themselves, despite Niall having already turned in an hour earlier. He watched them pull on socks, check their phones and shuffle in under their new bedsheet, all remarkably ordinary and completely unaware of the structural damage they had introduced into Louis’ life.

They had exchanged a sweet little smile before Liam reached over to switch off the lamp, and Louis had left, hating how innocuous they appeared. It just made him feel worse.

Ordinarily, he’d be downstairs while Niall slept, only ever entering his room if inspired by boredom to disrupt his sleep. Tonight, he didn’t particularly feel that jovial spirit that so often powered through him. He felt dull and dreary, one of those nights he embodied the ghosts he found so horribly boring on film. The kind that didn’t take advantage of the wonderful opportunity delivered to them for mischief, but rather wasted away their days moping, casting gloom over the spaces they filled.

But despite the rest of the flat being free, just as Niall had promised it occasionally would be, all Louis really wanted to do was sit here. Just sit here, with Niall, and hope hope hope that he wouldn’t lose the one thing he had left.

***

Having Harry and Liam around when Niall was out at work was difficult to get used to. Their erratic shifts didn’t help matters. More than once, Louis had been lounging through his breakfast television, only to have Liam and Harry burst in upon their return from work. He’d managed to veil himself by the skin of his ghostly teeth, and threw them an unsavoury gesture for giving _him_ a fright.

“Think you left the TV on last night,” Harry said to Niall later, scooping cereal into his mouth between yawns. “It was on when we got home.”

His voice was light, smile utterly pleasant, but Niall’s eyes still darted panicky towards Louis, who was brooding by the stove.

“Oh, yeah—must’ve, sorry,” Niall laughed nervously.

“No worries,” Harry flapped a hand. “Just wanted to mention it. In case you didn’t realise.”

After two more such occasions, Niall stuck a calendar up on the fridge, requesting Liam and Harry write their shift times.

A few days later, when the four of them were seated before the television for Bake Off, Liam turned to Niall.

“Are these for us?” he asked, indicating the collection of mugs on the coffee table, each full to the brim with tea.

“No!” Louis barked when Niall nodded eagerly, clearly grateful for such a fortuitous misunderstanding.

“Cheers!” Liam grabbed the mug closest to him, blew on it and took a careful sip, flinching slightly at the stone-cold brew inside.

Louis smirked as Niall gave a weak chuckle. “Right, uh, made ‘em too early, I guess.”

“No worries,” Liam laughed, collecting all the mugs and returning to the kitchen, where he refilled the kettle. Louis fumed as Liam poured the cold tea down the sink.

“Oh,” Liam said, voice distant and forlorn. “Looks like we’re out of tea.”

And for the first time in his life, that made Louis smile.

***

Louis blew on a fresh, steaming mug of tea when he heard the scrape of the lock.

Glancing at the chart on the fridge, he noted that Liam and Harry wouldn’t finish work for another two hours. Despite this, they came crashing inside in a mess of limbs, slamming the door after them. Louis put the mug down beside two others he’d made in the past hour, strolling over to the entrance where he saw Harry backed up against the door, Liam pressed in close to his front.

For a second, Louis recoiled in disgust, and turned to escape the intimate display. But then Harry’s breath hitched, and he heard Liam speak.

“It’s okay, you’re alright,” Liam said, hunched like he was trying to meet Harry’s eyes, even though they were closed. “It’s okay, you’re fine Harry, you’re fine.”

Their hands were laced together and pressed to Harry’s chest, which heaved and collapsed in quick succession. Louis noticed a slight tremor to his shoulder. Harry tipped his head back against the door, still breathing heavily.

“I really thought—” Harry began between breaths “—really thought—I was gonna—that I’d—”

“But you didn’t, you didn’t. You were amazing.” Liam gripped his shoulder so tight his fingers were white.

“She was so close,” Harry said, his brow scrunched tight. “She just grabbed me and I—she smelt so—”

“I know, but nothing happened.”

Harry slumped heavily against the door, his knees going slack so Liam was the only thing holding him up. “It’s so hard, Liam.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to bite her so bad.”

Louis did a double take. _What._

“But you didn’t,” Liam said.

“It never gets easier.” Harry’s voice trembled.

“I know, but you get stronger. You’ve been doing this for decades. It’s been years since you slipped.”

_… What._

Liam brought a hand up to cup his jaw.

“Deep breaths, come on,” he said, “in and out.”

Harry’s chest expanded and deflated in line with Liam’s instructions, eyes still screwed tight.

“In… and out, good.”

Another deep breath, Liam’s thumb soft against Harry’s cheek. It prompted Harry to open his eyes, which were jet black.

Louis felt a jolt and between one blink and the next he was in Niall’s room, hand pressed to his chest—a reflex he’d been unable to shake, even after all these years without a heartbeat. He could almost feel its echo though, pumping adrenaline through his body to cope with what he’d just seen.

He blinked hard, then again. He’d never seen anything like that. He wasn’t even sure what he _had_ seen. Whatever it was, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t safe.

He remembered then, as he still sometimes forgot, that he was a ghost—that whatever threat Harry may pose to the people around him, Louis couldn’t be harmed. But then he also remembered— _Niall_.

He shifted to the bathroom, looking out the window into the darkening street. Then he was back in Niall’s room looking at the clock, which read 4:13pm. Niall would be home in just over an hour.

Niall. He had to tell Niall. He wasn’t safe.

***

It was well and truly dark outside, almost impossible to see the street under the lone street lamp that stood on the corner by their flat, but Louis kept his face pressed to the bathroom window, waiting anxiously for Niall to return.

He finally emerged from the darkness, jacket pulled tight against the cold. It wasn’t long till his key was rattling in the lock.

Louis was on him before he’d even closed the door.

“Upstairs, now,” he hissed as quietly as he could.

Niall jumped. “What?” he said at a regular volume.

“Niall, that you?” Harry called from the kitchen. Louis slapped his hand over Niall’s mouth before he could answer.

“Mhhf?” He tried to pull back from Louis, who began pushing him to the stairs.

 “Upstairs— _now_!”

“Mmokay!” Niall whispered back, forcibly pulling Louis’ hand away. “Yeah! Just gotta use the bathroom, one sec,” he called back, then lower, “would you _stop_!”

“Hurry up,” Louis whispered—or thought he did.

“What was that?” Harry called back.

“Nothing! Noth— _hey_ —nothing!”

He almost tripped on the bottom step, batting at Louis’ hands all the way up the stairs and into his room. Louis snapped the door shut after them.

“Hey—easy! What’s the problem?”

“They have to go,” Louis hissed, pointing vaguely at the rest of the flat.

“What? Who?”

“Your new best friends, you’ve got to get rid of them.”

The crease between Niall’s eyebrows deepened. “What? Why are y—”

“ _Harry’s a monster_ ,” Louis whisper-shouted, so close that Niall backed up into the wall. “Maybe Liam, too, I don’t know. I don’t know what they are, but it’s not safe! _You’re_ not safe! They can’t—you have to evict them.”

“What do you mean Harry’s a monster?”

“His—when they got home. Something had happened, I dunno what. But Harry was freaking and Liam tried to calm him down and then Harry opened his eyes and they were BLACK. Like, black!”

“What do you mean, black?”

“How else should I say it, Niall? They were black! Completely black, all over.”

Niall’s raised his hands, placating. “Louis, okay, calm down. It could’ve been a trick of the light—”

“It was _not_ a trick of the light. I’m telling you, he’s… not normal, he’s something else.”

“You’re overreacting, just calm d—”

“You’re not safe!” Louis said, much louder than he should’ve. But he needed Niall to understand. “You need to get rid of them, it’s not safe for you to have them here.”

Niall’s eyes softened and he pushed gently off the wall. “Louis—that’s—I get what you’re trying to do. But I’m not in danger. They’re just a couple of low-paid guys. I’m sure it was nothing.”

Louis stepped back slightly. “You don’t believe me.”

“No, I—”

“Why don’t you believe me? Have I ever lied to you?”

“Well…”

“I mean about something important.”

“I would argue that volunteering me to hold that python in science class and telling me it was gonna be a lizard was important.”

“Something serious, Niall! Something real. That would get you hurt. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Lou, I’m sure everything is fine. They’ve been good, haven’t they? I mean, I know it’s different, but they’re nice. Clean. They’re good roommates. You need to cut them some slack.”

“Niall, I’m being serious.” It wasn’t in Louis’ nature to beg. Usually, if it came to it, Louis had a tendency to get angry instead.

But Niall didn’t seem like he was going to budge. Louis climbed onto the bed. “Fine.”

“Lou—”

“I’m just trying to keep you safe. But fine.”

“Lou, come on.”

Louis turned his head, refusing to be appeased.

Eventually Niall changed and made his way downstairs for dinner. For a moment, Louis felt tempted to call out and ask him to stay, but there was no point. Niall didn’t believe him anyway.

***

Louis remained cranky with Niall for the next twelve hours. The following morning, a Saturday, Louis sat on the couch, arms crossed, as Niall, Liam and Harry shared breakfast. Louis could hear them all laughing and talking, and eventually his inability to sit alone and apart from company won out over his grudge.

In the kitchen, there was something sizzling on the stove. He couldn’t smell it, but he still sniffed curiously, a Pavlovian response. Peering ‘round the corner, he could make out Liam’s back and the tips of Niall’s hair sat across from him.

Louis stopped a few feet from the door, unsure of himself.

“It was chaos! Gurneys and doctors slip sliding all across the hall and I’d only been gone a minute. Absolute madness.” Liam gestured emphatically with his fork. A bean escaped, landing on the floor.

“That’s why you’re supposed to bring it with you,” Harry laughed, depositing a plate piled high with eggs onto the table. “The second you leave to grab a sign someone’s going to walk right across your freshly-mopped hall.”

“Thought I was gonna be fired for sure,” Liam said. Niall was doubled down over his plate, cackling.

“He’s lucky he had me there to sweet talk the staff,” Harry grinned. “Without your portion of the rent, Niall’d boot us for sure.”

“Oi, I’m not that heartless,” Niall countered. “Would give you a week at least to find something.”

“Oh cheers,” Liam said, raising his glass.

Niall was halfway to another laugh when he spotted Louis at the door. Neither Harry nor Liam reacted to the way his voice stalled momentarily.

“Niall, you got any ketchup?” Liam asked, already on his feet to check the fridge.

“Don’t make me watch you eat your eggs with ketchup,” Harry groaned.

“You just worry about your plate of food,” Liam shot back, pulling out a red bottle and raising it over his head with a victorious, “Ah-ha!”

Harry shielded his eyes from Liam’s plate, gagging.

“Absolute heathen,” Louis shook his head, leaning on the counter. Niall smiled slowly, hopefully.

“Heathen,” Niall said, to which Harry nodded. Louis lips curved, encouraging Niall’s smile further.

Liam winked at Harry, who confiscated the bottle the second Liam set it down.

***

“C’mon, lad, tea’s getting cold!”

Louis leant forward from his spot on the lounge to see whether Niall was on his way back from the kitchen.

“You can just make me another!” Niall called back.

“That’s a waste of tea, that is.”

“Shut up,” Niall laughed, returning with a bowl of crisps tucked under his arm. “This is the seventh cup you’ve made today.”

Louis was cut off by the front door busting open. Harry and Liam tumbled inside, a dramatic replication of a fortnight earlier.

Only this time it was Harry with a hand tight around Liam’s bicep, and Liam breathing heavily.

Niall, halfway to sitting down, jumped back to his feet. Louis felt a shiver of energy run through himself at the shock.

“Jesus, alright, lads?” Niall was halfway to a laugh before he seemed to register the pained expression on Liam’s face. He was doubled over, hands pressed to his own thighs. Harry held both his shoulders, bent at the waist so they were eye level. Harry glanced over briefly before fixing his eyes back on Liam.

“Sorry, we’re fine, all good. Hi Niall, hi Niall’s friend. Any way we could get the place to ourselves for the night? Short notice, I know, but—” Harry’s voice and face were cheerfully strained; he spoke so fast that it took a second for Louis to realise—

He gasped as Niall’s eyes darted towards him.

“Did he just—”

Harry glanced at them again. His eyes met Louis’ and he stiffened, veiling himself immediately as a reflex. Harry frowned.

“Where’d he go?”

Niall looked between Harry and the spot where Louis stood, now invisible. “Uh…”

Liam, whom the other three had somehow forgotten in all this, reached for Harry’s hip to hold himself upright. His eyes were bulging and his breath was ragged.

“He—he just disappeared! What the f—where’d he g—” Pain rippled across his face and he clenched his teeth, groaning.

“Wait, was that a ghost?” Harry asked, relatively calm, considering.

“You know about ghosts?” Niall gaped just as Louis said, “He knows about ghosts?” The shock of it pulled him back into visibility, and Liam’s hand shot out, pointing directly at him.

“How—is—he— _doing_ —that!”

Harry grabbed Liam around the waist to keep him from crumpling to the floor.

“Liam, you alright, mate?” Niall asked, easing forward slightly. Louis grabbed his arm, both to hold him back from the others and so he wouldn’t be left alone.

“What is going on?” Liam cried, and on the last word his voice took on a deep, reverberating growl that seemed to tear at his throat. His legs finally gave way and his knees landed hard.

Louis pulled Niall back as Harry dropped down to Liam’s side, trying to meet his eyes.

“Liam, Liam? It’s okay, come on, we’ve got to—everything’s fine!—we need to—”

Liam clutched at Harry’s arm, panting. “Too—late—it’s—hap-happening—” Again, his words twisted into something guttural, and this time Niall took a step back on his own.

“Okay,” Harry said, first to Liam but then again to himself, “okay. Okay!” He jumped to his feet, escaping Liam’s grip to face Louis and Niall. “It’s fine. He’ll be fine!”

“He doesn’t bloody look fine!” Louis yelled, loud enough to be heard over Liam, whose hands and face were now pressed into the checkered floor.

“I need you to trust me, it’s all going to be fine.” Harry hurried past them into the living room. He cinched the curtains closed and pulled up a raucous playlist on his phone, which thumped through the Bluetooth speaker on the shelf above the television. He then started pulling records off the shelves, piling them into his arms. “There’s not a lot of time but it’s fine, Liam’s a werewolf but it’s all okay, trust me, no need to worry!” He was still smiling, eyes bouncing frantically between Niall, Louis, Liam and the rest of the room.

“Werewolf?” Louis repeated. He could barely hear himself over the music. Niall, who didn’t seem to have absorbed this frankly outrageous statement, still seemed more interested in offering Liam some assistance.

“Yes, but don’t worry, you’re not in any danger! Well, except for when he transforms.”

Louis gaped. “Is he transforming now?”

“Yes—but it’s fine!”

“Why the hell did you bring him here?!”

“People around here really like to walk through the woods, huh?”

“What?”

“The woods.” Harry began piling books atop the records. “In our last neighbourhood he’d transform in the woods, but they’re full of people here. It wasn’t safe—”

“So you brought him to our HOUSE?”

“It’ll be fine!”

“Stop saying it's fine!”

“But it’s fine!”

“Stop!”

A particularly un-human-like growl echoed from behind them. Louis turned to see the hem of Liam’s shirt riding up his back, revealing a line of unnatural bumps running up the base of his spine.

“I knew there was something wrong with you two,” Louis shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Harry.

Harry darted back across the room, flung the front door open and dumped the records on the sidewalk. He then dashed back inside, lifted the modestly-sized flat-screen off its cabinet, and turned back to the others.

“So, uh, grab anything you don’t want destroyed,” Harry said with a manic grin.

“Destroyed?”

“Yes, just, the wolf can get a bit violent—”

“Harry—” Liam hissed, hand clamping around his ankle.

“Grab what you can, boys!”

Between the music, Liam’s groaning, and the fact that Louis could see his fingertips starting to taper into claw-like points, the room devolved into utter chaos. Niall, somehow able to think past all this, darted forward and grabbed the Xbox while Harry bent down to run his hand along Liam’s spine. Every muscle in his body appeared taut, as if using all remaining energy to hold himself together. Louis, unsure of what on earth to do, grabbed the kettle off the stove.

Harry pressed a kiss to Liam’s sweaty hairline before shuffling the rest of them out onto the street. The last thing Louis saw was Liam’s eyes glow a terrifying yellow.

Harry closed the door behind them and took a seat on the stoop beside Louis’ frozen feet. Niall stood on the sidewalk, arms still wrapped around the Xbox and an absent expression on his face.

For a moment, the only thing they could hear was the bass from Harry’s playlist pound through the walls of the flat. Then, a particularly noticeable undercurrent of screaming. Harry flinched, but his face remained mostly passive.

It went on for minutes and minutes, punctuating the heavy drums and shouty lyrics, and the three of them remained silent, no one making eye contact. Eventually the screams were replaced by deep, animalistic growls.

Harry crossed one ankle over the other and said, “Since we’re airing secrets, I’m a vampire.”

“Of bloody course you are.”

The three of them remained there, silent and stationary, listening to the flat get ripped apart from within. It would quiet down for a while, then start again, deep into the night. There was a great crash, one of many, followed by a shattering cascade.

“My CDs,” Niall frowned.

A couple of hours after midnight a lone figure wandered up the street, hands buried deep in his own pockets and a lit cigarette in his mouth. The tip was flame-red, just a dot of light in the dark night. He passed them and ascended the step to the flat next door, eying them silently as things continued to crash and tumble inside.

“Remodelling,” Harry shrugged. Louis rolled his eyes, realising a beat too late that he hadn’t even bothered to veil himself, like he was normally so careful to.

The guy didn’t question why they were remodelling at 2:30am on a Thursday night, just disappeared wordlessly into his own flat.

***

There was an eerie peace to the night, that strange hour that could still be considered night, but may be closer to dawn. Niall had nodded off a while ago, sat back against the wall of their flat with his head tipped forward. The Xbox was still in his lap, his hands lax at its edges. Harry and Louis sat on the stoop and Louis maintained the maximum distance possible. He didn’t particularly think a vampire could hurt a ghost, but after tonight, what did he know?

Harry seemed quite relaxed. His legs stretched forward, crossed at the ankles, and he leant back on his palms.

Louis could still hear some scuffling inside. Not long ago a nose had snuffled against the crack of the front door behind them. It had eventually moved on, with the occasional rustle as Liam uncovered something new in the flat.

“You know you’re out of here after this, right?”

Harry frowned at Louis. “Why?”

“You serious? There’s no way you’re staying here given the—circumstances.” He flapped his hand in a way that indicated Harry’s vampirism, coupled with Liam’s current situation. “I won’t allow it.”

“The flat belongs to Niall, though, right? So… it’s kinda his decision, not yours. Sorry.” He grimaced as if genuinely apologetic.

“There’s no way I’m letting him live with a couple of monsters.”

“He lives with you.”

“I’m not a threat! I’m a ghost!”

“Ghosts can still interact with the real world. I’ve known a few ghosts in my time—one, Wendy, she used to haunt this old farm up north. Every night she’d open the pens so the animals would be all loose by morning.”

Louis tried to hide the smirk that pulled at his lips, rather impressed by that, but couldn’t wipe it off before Harry noticed.

“Plus, you’re holding a kettle.”

Louis looked down at the kettle still in his grasp. “Okay, so I can touch stuff, doesn’t mean I’m gonna hurt him.”

“I wouldn’t hurt Niall,” Harry said, like the very notion was alien to him.

“You’re a vampire, you’re like—programmed to hurt people.”

“I find that mildly offensive. But we’re not. Like—we can, yeah, and it’s probably the easiest way to live. To just give into it. But we don’t have to. I don’t. I just want to be normal. That’s all me and Liam are trying to do, we’re just trying to be human.”

Louis scoffed, facing the street.

Harry was silent a moment before asking, “What’s your name?”

Louis wanted so very badly to leave him hanging, but it had been so long since he’d spoken to anyone who wasn’t Niall. His voice rode out on the mere hunger of being heard by someone new.

“Louis.”

“I’m Harry.”

“I know.”

“Were you here when Niall moved in?”

“No.” Louis ran his foot along the edge of the stoop—his invisible barricade. “He was my friend, and then I died here, and now he’s the only friend I have.”

It sounded more pitiful than he would’ve liked. He hoped Harry wouldn’t take any perceived bait; thankfully (or not) there was another crunch of decimated furniture inside the flat that drew Harry’s attention. He turned slowly back around, his lips all wiggly in the apologetic space between a grimace and a smile.

***

The sun began to peak over the run-down, modest cityscape visible at the end of their street. Niall stirred against the wall of their flat, blinking hard against the glare. Harry and Louis were still just as they’d been when he’d fallen asleep.

“Morning,” Harry said. Niall ran a hand across his face and through his hair, giving an arbitrary wave.

“It over?” he croaked.

“He’s been quiet a couple of hours, should be safe to go inside now the sun’s up.” Harry hopped to his feet and stretched in an arc as Niall tightened his grip on the Xbox.

“Lucky no one nicked it in the night.”

“I made sure, don’t worry.”

Harry scooped up the TV before gingerly opening the door. Louis let Niall go next, craving some distance from Harry after being stuck at his side all night. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, and held the kettle tight to his chest.

Claw marks ran along the base of the walls in four parallel lines, cutting through the wallpaper. The bottoms of the curtains were in shreds, the couch springs were exposed, and there was a cloudy layer of cushion fluff all over the floor. The armchair was tipped onto its back, the wall unit and TV cabinet were splintered, and there were fragments of their CD collection all over the place. Louis spotted Liam’s sleeping, very human form curled up in the middle of the living room just as Harry pulled one of the curtain shreds over his bare skin.

“Well, I’ve seen worse,” he grimaced, straightening up.

“You’ve _what_ ,” Louis gaped.

“I promise we’ll help pay for replacements, Niall.”

Niall’s eyes drifted, a total absence of expression as if he were seeing the flat in its usual state. It was silent save for Harry picking at the debris all over the floor.

Louis swore. “Replacements? He’s destroyed _everything_.” He noticed his favourite Yorkshire Tea mug shattered by the three-legged coffee table and his fury ratcheted up another notch.

“I’m sorry—”

“ _Sorry_?”

“It wasn’t his fault.”

“Not his—? Who’s the one that decided to bring all this back to the flat?”

“Me.”

Louis briefly paused. “Right, my mistake, so it’s _your_ fault.”

“There was nowhere else to go. We’d been counting on the woods but there were so many people, it wasn’t safe.”

“There were people here too! Person!” Louis thrust Niall forward by the shoulders. “Niall is a person!”

“But at least it was contained? He couldn’t get out.”

“And he broke every last thing in the flat!” Louis kicked a fractured CD case by his foot for good measure. “Things that weren’t his to break! I suppose you’ll be replacing it all, will you?”

“I did just say—”

“No, you two are out. I’m not having this.”

“Louis—”

“Get your things, whatever hasn’t been destroyed, and get out of here—”

“No.”

Louis spun around to gawk at Niall, who was the model of calm.

“How are you so cool about this,” Louis hissed, pulling Niall back by the sleeve.

“Don’t think there’s any reason for worry.”

“A werewolf just destroyed our flat, Harry is a _vampire_. What if he _eats_ you?”

“Think if he wanted to eat me, he would’ve done it by now.”

“He could be playing the long game!”

Niall turned to Harry. “You planning to eat me?”

“Don’t feed from humans,” he shook his head. “Haven’t for a couple of years.”

“Cool,” Niall nodded.

Rage vibrated through Louis; shards of plastic and wood and glass all over the floor rattled.  “Look at this place! It’s in _ruins_.”

“They’ll help pay, we’ll get some new stuff,” Niall said, placating. The light fixture above their heads began to swing. “Liam’ll find somewhere else to turn next month, right?” Niall glanced at Harry, who nodded profusely.

“Niall—”

“Please relax, let’s just talk about this.”

Louis took a great, gulping, unnecessary breath. The room settled, and tension slipped out of Harry’s shoulders. Louis felt a glint of satisfaction. Niall’s pleading eyes washed it away.

“I won’t let them live here with us. With _you_.”

“Other than this, they’ve been good roommates.” Harry beamed behind them.

“Wipe that look off your face!” Louis barked. He was so loud that Liam stirred from the floor.

Harry quickly dropped to his side, a soft hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” he said, easing Liam upright. Liam appeared hazy, as if coming out of anaesthetic.

“Good, he’s awake.” Louis strode forward, ready to enact their eviction himself. But before he could take two steps Niall had wrapped around his hand with his own.

“Louis, please.”

Niall circled to stand in his path, mouth downturned and brow in a pleading incline. Louis’ heart lurched. He didn’t ever want Niall to feel that Louis wasn’t on his side.

“We need them here,” Niall said. “I need them here. If you make them leave… they’re the best applicants we’ve had by far. The only ones I liked. I don’t have enough to tide us over till we can find someone else.”

“They’re… you’re not safe,” Louis swallowed. His eyes dropped to the hand wrapped around his. He couldn’t feel its warmth or texture, but he could still _feel_ it. He could feel what it used to do to his heart rate, that bright popping awareness behind his eyes at knowing Niall was touching him. He’d lost a lot when he died, but he never lost that.

“I think I am,” Niall said in a low voice, almost encouraging. “I feel… they don’t mean any harm, you know? They’re just trying to get by, just like us. Seems like they might need us as much as we need them.”

Louis swallowed down the urge to say he didn’t need them. He didn’t need anyone but Niall, and he didn’t much like the idea that Niall needed anyone other than him. But he imagined them leaving, imagined forcing them out. Imagined having to go through the whole process again, and fighting them all just as he’d fought for Liam and Harry to leave. Imagined that Niall would have no choice but to leave as well.

Here, at the crossroads of choice, he knew that everything they had right in this moment, Harry and Liam included, was the closest he would get to Niall staying. Change one single variable and he could lose it.

Louis lifted his eyes back up to meet Niall’s, still waiting—hoping. He gave a tight nod and Niall almost sagged against him, the grip on Louis’ wrist tightening for just a second before he pulled away. Louis wished for it back.

Behind them, Harry and Liam watched silently from the living room, faces unsure—Liam’s leaning towards defeat, Harry’s slightly towards hope.

“Can we stay?” Harry asked, soft. His fingers held tight to Liam’s arm.

Niall grinned at Louis, then turned to face Harry. “Would love for you to, lads.”

Harry’s eyes lit up before his face levelled into one of determination. “Do you have a broom?”

Niall pulled one from behind the fridge as Harry helped Liam up, the strip of curtain held tight around his dignity. His expression remained mortified.

“God, I’m—so sorry, Niall.” Liam’s eyes circled the room, flinching at each new broken thing that entered his view.

“It’s okay, mate, don’t think you had much of a choice.”

“We should’ve cased the woods better.”

“Really, it’s alright.”

“I’ll pay for everything.”

“Oh, no,” Harry frowned, holding the shreds of what Liam had been wearing the night before. “I bought you this shirt for your birthday.”

Niall left Louis’ side to pat Liam’s arm in reassurance. “Seriously, Liam, it’s okay. Most of this stuff was ancient anyway, older than I am. The place could probably do with a spruce.” He carefully slipped a photo out from behind a fractured frame on the floor.

“Still got the important stuff.” He held it out to Louis, smiling. It was a picture of the two of them with Margie, the day she’d taken them to a skating rink for Louis’ 17th birthday. Niall had sustained a sprained ankle forty minutes after the photo was snapped.

Louis watched Niall survey the ruins of their flat’s furnishings. Most of it had belonged to Margie, keeping her spirit with them in some way. Seeing it all torn from Niall made heat fizzle in his fingertips, but it receded at the look in Niall’s eyes.

He was still just so calm—so accepting, even as he lifted the torn remains of a cushion cover, pilled with age. He ran his fingers along the tears in the wallpaper, tempering Liam’s ongoing apologies with an insistence that the place needed a fresher look anyway.

“This is all we had left of her,” Louis frowned. “She’s really gone now.”

“She’s been gone a long time,” Niall shook his head. “None of this was her. Used to go on about how much she hated half this stuff.” He chuckled, and memories Louis had all but forgotten flooded his mind. Not a day went by that Margie hadn’t grouched about half the décor, like the couch her husband had chosen out for them.

“Up and died two weeks later, didn’t he? Just to leave me with this monstrosity,” she used to say, eying the earthy fabric with disdain.

“But this place is her,” Louis said. He felt wholly weighted to the tips of his toes in lieu of the heart he no longer had.

“Think it’s more you to be honest,” Niall teased in a clear effort to chase off their melancholy. “You’re the one still here, aren’t you?”

Niall had asked him once, when the loss of Margie was fresh, why she hadn’t stayed like Louis. Curled atop his duvet, his watery eyes set on Louis, who sat helplessly at his side.

“I dunno, Nialler. Might’ve felt she had a good, full life. She was at peace, y’know?”

Louis had asked the same questions of his own fate early on. In time, it had become apparent that there was only one reason he could still be here—someone he didn’t want to leave behind.

Here, now, Niall smiled at him with such warmth that even Louis thought he could feel it.

“Don’t need this stuff to remember her,” Niall shook his head. “But we do need these two to make sure we can stay together, yeah?”

Over Niall’s shoulder, Harry was still lamenting the loss of Liam’s shirt while Liam looked as if he’d willingly destroy the rest of his own wardrobe to undo the damage all around them. He seemed torn between his continued and profuse apologies to Niall and the desire to rush upstairs and clothe himself. He eventually gave in when Niall insisted, “Mate, the only thing I won’t forgive is you flashing me because you refuse to dress.” He cackled as Liam scurried pink-cheeked up the stairs and Harry wolf-whistled after him.

Louis pitched his voice low. “You really okay with this?”

He’d said plenty worse within earshot of the others, but this felt private, something between just himself and Niall. Reaffirmation that Niall was willing to endanger his own life. 

“It’ll be just fine.” His face was smooth with acceptance, as if living in such company was worthwhile, just to stay here with Louis. “And besides, they know about you now. No more hiding, right?”

In all the chaos, he’d quite forgotten this. His secret was out. And it certainly wasn’t the worst secret being kept under this roof.

“True,” he mused, peeking around Niall. Harry was oblivious, plucking up a few CD cases that looked to be in decent condition. He placed them gently on the lowest shelf of the last-standing case, nodding with satisfaction until it gave way and crashed to the floor with everything else.

Louis was no longer bound to good behaviour.

He could certainly have some fun with this.

“What do you say?” Niall nudged him.

It occurred to Louis that this was the first conversation he and Niall had shared in company since Margie had died. Something had felt off in the last twelve hours—aside from the werewolf in their living room and the vampire on the front step—and that was it. Niall hadn’t acknowledged him in the presence of another for over six months. It was… wonderful.

In spite of himself, Louis smiled. Niall smiled right back.

“So is it you making all the tea?”

Louis startled at Harry’s question, following his eyeline to the kettle still in his hand.

“Oh, yeah, that’s me.”

“You make a good brew.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, it’s usually cold by the time I find it, but it’s really good. Better than my mum makes, even.”

“Louis makes the best cuppa in all of England,” Niall grinned.

“I believe it.”

“Oh my god.”

Liam reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, ogling Louis as if seeing him for the first time all morning. “You’re a ghost.”

“I think we’ve well established that, mate.”

“I remember you from last night, you just disappeared, and then you came back. Have you been here the whole time?”

“You don’t see me if I don’t want you to.” He veiled himself and Liam gave an odd, strangled cry. Harry laughed, and Louis couldn’t help the satisfied grin when he reappeared.

“We’ve been living with a ghost. Okay. That’s okay.”

“Don’t know if you’ve any right to be the one freaked out right now.”

“Right,” Liam said, with a solemn look at the flat.

“He’s the one making all the tea,” Harry said.

“Can you drink tea?”

“Obviously not,” Louis scowled.

“Then why do you make it?”

“Just like to, don’t I. Something wrong with that?” As a new ghost, it had been the only thing Louis could do to feel normal. Even after all this time, he still found comfort in it, even if he couldn’t drink it.

“Seems wasteful.”

“We can drink it,” Harry threw a hand into the air. “Won’t be a waste anymore.”

***

It took most of the day to clear the flat. The four of them (or, more precisely, three with Louis’ instruction) collected the debris into half a dozen garbage bags and piled them all together with the wreckage of most of their furniture. No one owned a car to carry it all to the tip so they’d agreed to try emptying it into the garbage week by week. Harry even suggested spreading it out through their neighbour’s bins, but Niall assured him nothing happened on this street without the whole neighbourhood eventually finding out. Their neighbours were a gossipy bunch.

“You’ve had a vampire and a werewolf living in your flat for a month—”

“And a ghost for seven years!” Louis added.

“—and seem to have gotten away with it.” Harry peeked surreptitiously through the shredded curtains. “Think we could manage it.”

“Abusing your neighbours’ bins is not a good start for a flat full of people who want to come off as normal as possible,” Niall cautioned. Harry frowned, but accepted this for the wisdom it clearly was. He did seem quite chuffed with being referred to as a ‘person,’ though.

By nightfall all they had left was a footstool, a side table and a bookcase with half the shelves ripped out. They sat the modest TV atop the table and gathered on the bare floor with pizza.

Louis considered the armchair tucked safe and sound up in Niall’s room, but decided he quite liked seeing the other three spread on the floor with a perfectly good armchair upstairs just for him.

That night he sat himself in said armchair as the others prepared for bed. Louis had a clear view of Harry and Liam’s room down the hall. Liam sat on the edge of his bed pulling a pair of navy socks over his feet. Harry emerged between them from the bathroom, giving Louis an odd elbow wave as his hands were occupied pulling up his hair.

“Night, Niall. Night, Louis.”

Louis blinked in surprise. He would likely be greeted goodnight every night from now on. Wonders never ceased.

He heard the distinct three taps of Niall’s toothbrush against the sink before Niall emerged from the bathroom as well. “Night,” he answered, but Louis was too slow before he pulled the bedroom door shut.

“You staying in here tonight?”

“Don’t fancy sitting on a footstool for the next twelve hours.” He hopped up and threw himself belly-first onto Niall’s bed.

“The whole point of your chair is so you have somewhere to sit when I'm in bed.” Niall yanked at the duvet, slipping underneath.

“So ungrateful for my presence! Maybe Harry and Liam will be more accommodating,” he considered, while privately thinking he’d like nothing less.

“Don’t you become a terror,” Niall warned, but his eyes were warm.

“The one benefit to being dead is how much easier it is to be a terror.”

“We want them to stay, remember?”

“Don’t worry. They’ll learn to love me.”

Niall lay back against his pillow, lips curved kindly. Louis felt a warm rush down to his toes, almost like he was levitating above the bed.

“I know they will,” Niall said, before turning off the light.

***

It took a few days for Louis to grow acquainted with lowering his guard. He still veiled himself when someone entered the room, or quickly switched off the TV to avoid detection. Upon remembering it was no longer necessary, he would become visible again, and often give Liam a generous fright.

Harry was less jumpy, given his experience with ghosts in the past, but Louis had managed to get him once—standing on the front stoop, hands on hips, so they were face-to-face when Harry attempted to sneak garbage into a neighbouring bin.

Harry had backed up, a modest amount of colour filling his pallid cheeks, and retreated inside. Louis was not necessarily opposed to his intent for mischief, but did plan to uphold Niall’s will at all costs. Harry still appeared sheepish the next morning, accepting one of the six mugs of tea Louis had made overnight and praising it feverishly, despite its chill.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, there was some satisfaction in having his tea serve more of a purpose. Niall had never been able to drink it all. Louis would often make a fresh brew when he was due home, but any other mugs were destined for the drain. However, now there were two additional mouths in the flat, and with their sporadic shifts there was usually someone around open to a cuppa.

***

Louis shook a fresh English Breakfast out of its box and dropped it into a mug overturned on the drainer. Just as he went to fill the kettle he heard voices drift in from the living room, soft but clear over the muffled television.

“—long have you known him?”

Niall’s voice was quick to answer Liam, and Louis gently lowered the kettle.

“We were mates growing up. His family used to live down the road, he’d come by whenever I was here visiting my nan.”

Harry was out at work—one of his rare shifts without Liam—while Liam was helping Niall assemble a new coffee table. Louis peeked around the kitchen door; sat on two cushions Niall had pulled from the linen closet, they appeared to be taking a break.

“You knew him before he was a ghost?”

Niall nodded. His face was largely concealed, facing Liam in the other direction. Louis tucked himself back in the kitchen, keeping silent. He felt ridiculous, hiding away when he could very well waltz right in without either of them seeing him. But it didn’t feel right, to hide from Niall. He preferred to keep a wall between them when eavesdropping.

“Guess that makes sense.”

“What d’you mean?”

“If I’d found a ghost in my house, I would’ve just moved out. But since you knew him, you weren’t so spooked.”

Niall chuckled. “Dunno. Think maybe it made it worse. I mean, I was glad to see him, ‘course, but it’d been hard, moving on after he was gone. Think I’d only just started to really come to terms with it and then there he was.”

“Wasn’t that good, though? I mean you didn’t have to come to terms with it ‘cause you still had him.”

Niall was silent for a second.

“Didn’t have him all the way back. Don’t get me wrong, I was… happiest I’ve ever been, seeing him again. But…”

This time he paused for so long that Louis couldn’t resist another look. Liam’s face was patient and focused; one of Niall’s hands idly ran along a groove in the floorboards.

“The day he fell… when he died, I’d just gotten up the courage to ask him out. Took me forever to work up the nerve, and just as I was ready to take the plunge he… well.” Niall’s voice grew unsteady, dropping into a soft laugh Louis recognised, one he would pull out to mask emotion.

One of Liam’s hand gently clasped Niall’s shoulder. “You could’ve still asked him, though. He’s here, and he’s definitely not going anywhere.”

Niall shifted, shoulders tucked tight around his ears. He was so quiet when he next spoke, Louis almost missed it.

“Not much we can do with him as a ghost, though, is there?”

A familiar buzz tingled at Louis’ fingertips in the absence of a quickening heartbeat. He pulled his lip between his teeth, biting down on something he’d pushed back for years—something he had long buried beneath the reality of his post-life existence.

And then Liam said, “he’s here, isn’t that enough?” As if it was the easiest thing in the world.

Louis chanced just one more peek, first spotting the supportive tilt to Liam’s smile. His eyes shifted slowly to Niall, expecting to find him even more uneasy than before. But instead, his shoulders were lax, sunk well beneath his ears. Liam’s face shifted, a responsive softening that suggested Niall’s face had done something Louis couldn’t see.

If Louis had a heart, it would be pounding.

He allowed just a tendril of that long-concealed feeling to probe at the wall it had been tucked behind. He allowed it to declare itself, to introduce itself back into his hopes. He had long denied it as viable.

But, perhaps it was.

***

The flat was completely silent, a rarity with three tenants working shifts on opposite ends of the clock and a ghost to “keep the place alive,” as Harry had begun to put it. He, Liam and Niall were all fast asleep—had been for hours. Louis was sat in his armchair, eyes fixed on Niall.

A chill had begun to blow through town, signalling a change in season, and Niall was tucked up tight in bed, an exaggerated mound under the additional blanket he’d thrown over his duvet. Niall succumbed to the cold easily—had even bought himself some thermals a couple of years ago—but Louis was untouchable. He used to complain more than Niall, but now the wind blew right through him.

Louis watched Niall closely, his eyes tracing the coiled line of his body. The duvet was pulled so high that merely a tuft of hair was visible against the pillow. Niall was breathing hard through the mouth, muffled by the bedding but clear enough that Louis got up from his chair and shifted to the hallway.

As quietly as he could, he pulled the box containing Niall’s humidifier from the linen cupboard and tip toed back to the bedroom.

The door creaked lightly when he pressed it open, and he deposited the box by the wall. It only occurred to him in the midst of unpacking the humidifier that he probably should’ve done it back in the hall. The cardboard crunched and the three-pronged end of the cord whipped against the wall.

He eventually got it out but fumbled too long trying to figure out where the water went in, and Niall’s bed creaked. The top half of Niall’s face peered at him over the edge of the duvet.

“Lou?”

He gently lowered the humidifier to the floor. “Sorry.”

“What you doin’?”

“Thought you might… it’s cold out, and your throat, y’know?”

Niall propped himself up on an elbow. “The top twists off.”

Louis swivelled the spout and it turned loose easily in his hand.

“Right,” he sighed.

“You’ve seen me do it a thousand times.” Niall’s voice was scratchy with sleep, but amused.

“I’ll just fill this up, won’t be a sec.”

“Wait.” Louis stopped halfway to the door. “What’re you doing in here?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Why aren’t you playing Fifa or something?”

Louis clutched the humidifier to his chest, as if hoping it would hide what was going on inside. While he would often be here when Harry and Liam prepared for work, they were both asleep. There was no need to hide any longer, but Louis wasn’t here out of necessity. He was just being honest with himself for the first time, that this was where he wanted to be.

“Just felt like staying up here tonight.”

Niall eyed him with curiosity, the silhouette of his dishevelled hair only just visible in the darkness.

The silence stood for a moment before Louis said, “be right back.” He filled the reservoir in the bathroom sink and returned to find Niall sat up with his lamp on. Louis wordlessly reassembled the humidifier, fingertips buzzing with energy.

A soft mist poured out of the spout, settling in an eerie layer across the floor. Louis straightened, gave Niall a stiff nod and turned to leave.

“Where you going?”

“Thought I’d let you sleep.”

“Was sleeping alright with you here so far.” Niall’s face was rumpled, pillow lines visible under the lamplight.

Louis shuffled his feet. “Till I woke you up.”

“Yeah,” Niall grinned, but made no move to tuck himself back into bed. Louis relented under his gaze, his insides a mix of gratitude and nerves, and shifted back to the chair.

“What’re you sitting over there for?”

Louis, halfway seated, jumped back to his feet and threw his arms at his sides. “Shall I give you a play by play of everything I do?”

“You’ve pretty adamantly refused to use that chair since I brought it up here.”

“I’m finally repaying you for your hard work.”

“What’s going on?”

The buzz in his fingertips spread up his arms. He folded them. “Nothing, go to sleep.”

“Louis.”

“You have work tomorrow.”

“You’re acting weird.”

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“I’m NOT.”

A gust of energy blew like a rolling wave up Niall’s bedding; he threw his hands out to smooth it back down, shivering at the rush of air.

“Lou, what’s up?”

“It’s not—don’t worry. I’m gonna go catch some infomercials, see you in the morning.”

“Louis,” Niall said in a tone that left no room for escape—that told Louis he would have to answer him one way or another, whether it was now or tomorrow. “Can you just talk to me?”

For just a second he wished he wasn’t bound to the flat. It was becoming a habit, having to soldier on through conversations Louis didn’t want to have. He should be an expert by now, but it still took courage—the same giant leap.

He ran a hand roughly through his hair, unsure of how to even begin; they’d known each other so long that no matter what he said first, it would feel like jumping into the story halfway.

Eventually, after deliberating so long that he himself was losing patience, Louis said, “I heard you talking with Liam.”

Niall stiffened, slipping his legs out from beneath the duvet. “Oh.”

“Not, like, on purpose. I wasn’t in the room. But I heard what you said… about the day I died.” Niall’s cheeks were noticeably darker in the dim light, eyes focused on the floor.

Niall linked his fingers tight in his own lap, shoulders tensed. He cleared his throat. “I get if you don’t wanna—if you’re worried that, like, I’ll want—”

“No! It’s not—I don’t want you to think I’m uncomfortable. It’s not like that, it’s like…” Louis wrapped one arm around himself and swallowed. “It’s, like, me too.”

Niall’s head snapped up.

“I’m also—with you, um, yeah.”

The hum of energy coming from Louis sent the mist from the humidifier rolling back from Louis’ feet in a wide arc. He clenched his hands, holding himself together; this was an especially delicate moment that he didn’t want to ruin.

“And it’s different now,” he swallowed one hand gesturing the bed. “Like, now that we know, it’s different.”

Niall nodded, slow, just once, and despite it all, said, “Can you come over here?”

Louis sat beside him on the edge of the bed. He was usually all the way in Niall’s space, but tonight he left a small gap between them.

“For how long?”

Louis breathed a soft laugh. “‘Bout as long as you, looks like.”

“Well, we’re a pair of clowns.”

“Oh, shove off.” Louis gave him a nudge, finally comfortable enough to look him head on under the guise of offense.

“All this time, and neither of us said a thing.” There was a slight turn to the corner of Niall’s mouth now.

“Didn’t seem practical, did it.” Louis could feel a pull at his lips as well.

“But Liam was right, wasn’t he? Does it really matter?”

Niall’s eyes jumped between his own lap and Louis’ face a few times before settling somewhere around Louis’ nose.

Louis didn’t know how to answer, but Niall didn’t appear to need one. Ever so slightly, he leaned in.

It felt like an endless spiral of time and an instant all at once, watching Niall’s face draw closer. Louis remained completely still, lips slightly parted, just waiting. It had been so long since he’d last been in this position. He’d forgotten what it was like to do this when he was alive. He had no idea how it would play out now that he wasn’t.

Niall seemed equally nervous, drifting closer and closer until he was out of focus. At long last, his lips pressed up against Louis’ with a soft pressure. Louis could hear him breathe in through his nose, right there against him, and on instinct did the same. He did everything he could to maintain his solidity, to press back against Niall so Niall didn’t fall right through him.

It was over almost as soon as it had begun, barely long enough for Louis to catalogue how it had felt. He thought he would like to do it again so he could feel it out properly.

Niall’s face reflected the odd mix of uncertainty and contentment Louis felt inside. They both laughed softly. This was all so new—not just the kissing, but being so careful around each other.

“What did it feel like?” Louis asked, almost whispered.

“It was like…” Niall pursed his lips, like he was feeling out the memory. “Cold.”

Louis frowned. “That’s not good.”

“Not bad cold! Just like, drinking from a chilled glass. Soft, though.”

Louis felt a flutter of energy within.

“What about me? Did I feel like anything?” Niall appeared childishly hopeful, like perhaps he was the first thing Louis has felt in seven years.

“Nothing really. But I mean, I could feel you there,” he hesitantly touched his lips, “just, not what it really _felt_ like. I could feel it here though.” He dropped his hand to his chest, right where his heart used to be.

Niall’s face tinged pink. He took Louis’ hand even though that must’ve felt cold to him as well.

“So, we’re doing this, yeah? We’re doing… something.”

“Think we can safely say this is something,” Louis agreed, still so quiet. The moment felt gentle, like it would evaporate into the mist still rolling across the floor. He squeezed Niall’s fingers back.

Niall eventually returned to sleep, tucked under the covers with Louis lying above them beside him. He watched Niall’s eyes slowly close, the tips of his fingers just visible where they were curled over the edge of the duvet. When he was sure Niall was asleep, he curled his fingers there too.

*

It wasn’t the first time Niall had woken to Louis right in front of him first thing in the morning, but it was certainly the first time it felt like this.

To maintain as much normalcy as possible, they seemed equally willing not to mention that something had changed, although Louis could tell by the way Niall quickly looked away each time he smiled that he was also happy it had.

They descended the stairs together, Louis a step behind Niall instead of shifting to the kitchen in an instant. Niall grunted a “morning” to Liam and Harry.

Harry, sporting a checked apron dusted in flour to match the smear across his cheek, jumped to attention.

“Hi. Oh! You’re alright,” he said upon seeing Louis in Niall’s wake.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“First time we’ve had to make our own cuppas in a while,” Liam said, raising a mug to Louis before bringing it to his lips.

“Normally there’s tea all over the place by the time we’re up,” Harry agreed.

Louis’ eyes swept across the kitchen, which was notably absent of tea. He usually made five or six cups in the night, and since becoming known to Liam and Harry, tried to have two of them ready for the morning.

“Right, yeah, sorry lads. Was kinda busy.”

Liam frowned, as if sceptical Louis could have been doing anything else. Harry, however, looked between him and Niall three times, before his eyes widened dramatically.

“Were you with Niall!”

Liam perked right up at that. Louis could see him mentally replaying the memory of his conversation with Niall in fast forward. The tips of Niall’s ears grew very red and Louis suspected that in different circumstances he would look the same.

“Did something happen?” Harry was grinning widely, hands balled at his sides.

“No,” Louis said at the same time Niall said, “none of your business.”

Both Harry and Liam took that as confirmation, exchanging euphoric smiles as if their greatest dream had been realised. Louis felt this was a somewhat exaggerated response from two people they had known for all of a month.

“What’s all this then?” Louis said, grasping at anything to distract from the topic at hand, and hopefully bring Niall’s ears back to a normal shade. He gestured at the assortment of mixing bowls lining the counter, flanked by bags of flour, jars of sugar, and a variety of dairy products.

“I’m baking for the neighbours.”

“Neighbours?”

“I’ve invited some people round for morning tea, just an informal meet-and-greet with everyone.”

“A what now?”

“To get to know everyone! Just to be... you know… friendly?” Harry’s voice rose an octave at the flat expression on Louis’ face.

“Cool,” Niall shrugged, seemingly unbothered for reasons that evaded Louis, who crossed his arms.

“Why do you need to get to know everybody? We’ve never done it.”

“Niall grew up here,” Harry said.

“And you’ve never exactly wanted anyone to know about you,” Liam added.

“But Liam and I are new. And if we really want to fit in here, to try and be human, we need to get to know our neighbours.”

“Seems unnecessary,” Louis muttered.

But Niall was of a different mind. “Sounds nice. There’s definitely some newer folks around here I don’t know. Can finally put some names to the faces.”

“Exactly,” Harry beamed, liberally dumping sugar into one of the bowls.

“C’mon, Lou.” Niall nudged Louis. “This is your chance to see everyone up close.”

No matter how much Louis felt he would do just fine without seeing anyone else up close, knowing he had Niall up close made it all seem irrelevant. Despite himself, and under Niall’s warm gaze, he smiled.

*

Despite Louis’ scepticism, 11am saw their newly refurnished living room full to the brim with faces Louis had only ever seen as indistinct figures in the street for the last seven years. 

Their new green, second-hand lounge held Mr and Mrs Kaur, and Ms Holland from across the street. Mrs Lovegrove from down the road was sat in their grey-and-black striped armchair, and her new beau Mr Flatt was perched on the arm beside her. Louis’ old neighbour Ms Liao and her fluffy white lapdog occupied the other armchair, a pastel floral print that would’ve done Margie proud, but had only been purchased for its price tag. Niall had grabbed two knee-high stools for himself and a young man with a striking bone structure and dark eyes that Louis had seen only once, when sitting on the front stoop as Liam tore the flat to shreds. Liam himself was currently lounging comfortably on a cushion on the floor, and Harry was refilling the mugs of tea he’d allowed Louis to make in secret before the guests arrived.  

Louis stood against the wall by the television, invisible to all but Niall, Harry and Liam.  

Harry was sporting his most charming smile, accepting compliments on his scones from Mrs Lovegrove and promising to give her a copy of the recipe. Liam’s smile took on a strained edge every time Louis leaned into his field of vision, as if terrified that at any moment Louis would blow their cover as a perfectly normal household. 

Niall, however, seemed perfectly at ease, munching on his fourth oatmeal cookie and introducing himself to Zayn, who had moved in next door only this year.  

“Thought I hadn’t seen you about much,” Niall nodded, a few crumbs sticking to the corner of his mouth. Louis stepped forward to brush them away, causing Niall to flinch dramatically.  

“Hopeless,” Louis said in his best impression of Mrs Kaur, who had done the exact same thing to her husband not five minutes earlier. 

Niall looked like he very much wanted to slap him away, but instead offered Zayn a smile in his best attempt to appear as if nothing was happening. Zayn, to his credit, didn’t seem terribly unnerved, averting his eyes to sweep around the room. 

“Decent job with the renovations,” he mumbled. This was rather generous of him, given that it was evident 90% of the furniture was very clearly used. The one notable improvement was the freshly painted walls, as the wallpaper had been too far gone to save.  

Louis pouted, feigning concentration as he continued to brush at Niall’s face. The crumbs were well and truly gone; he just wanted to see how long Niall would be willing to suffer it. He made it another thirty seconds before he grabbed Louis’ fingers, trying to make out that he was simply scratching his cheek.  

Liam’s smile grew so taut his teeth squeaked. He thrust a plate of brownies under Zayn’s nose. 

“Another?” he asked, drawing Zayn’s eyes away from Niall, who now had both Louis’ hands in his grip. 

“Just gonna grab a water,” Niall said to no one in particular, one hand wrapped around Louis’ wrist as he got up. 

“I’ll get it—" Harry began, deep in host mode. 

“I’ve got it,” Niall insisted, dragging Louis across the room, unbeknownst to anyone other than Harry and Liam. Halfway there, Louis shifted to the kitchen, leaving Niall to stumble from the loss of Louis’ counter weight. Louis smirked and Niall hurried double time through the kitchen door. 

“We’re trying to come off as normal, you dolt,” he whispered, although Louis could detect a twinkle of amusement in his eye. 

“What do you care. You’re actually human.” 

“You’re gonna send Liam to an early death. Is that your plan, so you’re not the only ghost?”  

Niall leant in close, nose almost brushing Louis’. This Niall was an altogether new creature—a strange realisation given his constant presence in Niall’s life for the last seven years, and no shortage of time spent together prior. But in all that time, he had never seen Niall in a relationship. In fairness, he was no seasoned romantic himself. Louis’ fingertips tingled at the thrill of their circumstance, of this great unknown. He’d lived so many years of such monotony. 

“Lou?” Niall prodded, and Louis realised he’d let his thoughts carry him away. Grateful he had no blood to colour his cheeks, Louis darted in to touch his lips to Niall’s, who gasped at the brush of cold.  

“C’mon, let’s see how long it takes Liam to get lockjaw.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and if you enjoyed it please share the [post](http://dearmrsawyer.tumblr.com/post/178040406018)!


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